


We Built Our Own World

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Ariadne and Arthur de Pointe reached an Understanding and have married. Now came the honeymoon… (Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1607414">Radical Notion</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Built Our Own World

Much of the summer passed in a flurry of preparations for the wedding. Lady Ariadne had agonized somewhat over the guest list, her father all the while grumbling about the expense. He and Arthur had managed to strike an agreement regarding stipulations in the marriage contract; apparently Arthur's clear interest in her hand and her father's desire to her wed did not automatically ensure a harmonious meeting. Ariadne's family was to pay for half the cost of the wedding, if only to ensure that they wouldn't simply renege on the contract. Ariadne wanted to protest that her father would never be so callow, but alas, she knew enough about his nature to applaud Arthur's caution. Should a better offer than Arthur's arrive, her father would have no qualms in breaking the contract and get a larger financial portion for himself and her wayward brother.

Of course, Ariadne had no other offers because she did not encourage such things. Indeed, she had thought that eventually she would be a spinster bluestocking, and had simply resigned herself to such a fate.

Fate, however, had other plans for her.

Ariadne had been suspicious and angered by what she had thought was Arthur's disregard for her family. But he was hardly the villainous rake she had imagined. He was self-taught as she was, and eager to discuss such topics. His visage was pleasing to the eye, and the secret kisses he had bestowed were illuminating.

They definitely would suit nicely, she was certain.

To Arthur's amusement, Ariadne was engrossed in the wedding planning. She didn't tell him that the guest list was a delicate balance of village, _ton_ and relations she hadn't seen in years. Arthur's own contribution to the list was rather small— his widowed father, a dissolute business partner, an isolated but wealthy business associate, an older business associate that frequently traveled to the Orient and a chemist, who no doubt tended to work on illicit substances brought back from the Orient. Ariadne had heard dreadful things about the milk of the poppy, though Arthur insisted that he didn't partake of such things. "I deal with trade goods. Occasionally secrets for the Crown," he admitted. "Such dangers are rewarded well." That explained his sudden fortunes without dealing in anything too unsavory, at least.

The wedding itself took place in late fall, and was an affair that made Ariadne immensely proud. For all of her family's thrift prior to the event, she was capable of truly impeccable design and taste. Arthur's frank approval warmed her heart; it was nice to be appreciated for her talents and not simply her title.

His touch during their dances felt almost improper, even if he never made such a move. Rather, it was her own improper thoughts, a wanton desire to see his form unclothed, to see if reality matched fantasies borne of reading novels.

Their honeymoon was actually at a quaint estate in Scotland, a recommendation from Arthur's dissolute business partner. It was rather secluded, but staff were welcoming and only too pleased to be of service. Apparently, the estate belonged to Mr. Eames, yet he spent so little time there. The staff members were largely left to their own devices, though they were ardently loyal to the Eames family. For Arthur to be Mr. Eames' business partner made him honorary family, and the staff members went out of their way to make the newlywed couple feel at home. Ariadne didn't even notice when snow began to fall during that evening's dinner. She and Arthur had engaged in a tour of the estate and looked at the library, which the staff members had found amusing.

Ariadne, for all of her anticipation regarding the wedding night, had also been rather nervous. The travel to Scotland had put off the inevitable bedding, and while Arthur seemed eager to press his advantage, had graciously allowed her to "settle in." Normally, she was far more impulsive than she should have been, and such reticence was unlike her. But novels and real life were oftentimes not the same thing, and she really didn't want her illusions to be shattered so rudely.

"We're snowed in," Arthur told her after dinner. She had retreated to the library rather than their bedroom, and the drapes remained drawn. He lifted one to show the high drifts around the house, the surface pristine as snow continued to fall. "It's just you and me now. Unless you have other excuses to delay the inevitable?"

Flushing, Ariadne stopped pretending to peruse the book shelves. "Your kisses inflame the senses, Arthur," she told him frankly. He blinked, frozen in place for a moment. "What if everything else pales in comparison? Novels tell of such heights of passion, or such terrible pains. What is reality?"

He approached her slowly, then reached out to stroke her cheek gently. "Reality is what we make of it, Ariadne. It may hurt, it may not. If I've done my job properly, it will not."

"You sound so certain of yourself."

Arthur gave her a brilliant grin, eyes crinkling in the corners and dimples appearing in his cheeks, adding to his boyish charms. "Of this, yes. For it would be remiss of me to leave you wanting, and I aim to be rather… _thorough_ in my attentions to your needs."

"Oh? Have you rather specific ideas on the subject?"

"Lock the door and see."

"In the library?" Ariadne asked, eyebrow lofted. "How rather scandalous."

"I do believe our sojourn here may be longer than the three weeks planned." His eyes smoldered with passion, making her shiver. "I plan to be rather scandalous indeed."

She locked the door, then pressed herself against it, a measure of her former uncertainty in her posture. Flirting came easily when she spoke to Arthur. But what of lovemaking?

Arthur came forward with deliberate slowness, almost appearing to have a predator's grace. She was very much feeling like prey, caught in his gaze and unable to look away. His hand fell to the rise of her breast, and she could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of her gown. "I am a planner, you understand," he murmured. "Ideas. Theories. Attention to detail." His other hand came to rest on her hip, just above where the petticoats would dull her sense of his touch. "I plan to pay very special attention to your needs, Ariadne."

Gasping when he lifted her breast out of her corset, she thought of protesting. But then his mouth came down to taste her flesh, and Ariadne couldn't help but grasp his shoulders when her knees grew wobbly. The touch at her waist firmed, giving her balance, and her world narrowed to his tongue on the nipple and the sensation flooding through her. Ariadne grasped tried to tug at his shirt ineffectually, and wound up threading the fingers of one hand in his hair. She gasped and moaned, arching into his mouth, wanting to touch more of him and feeling frustrated that she couldn't. If anything, he was practically smiling against her skin.

Ariadne thought to admonish him when he pulled away, but Arthur lifted her skirts and bared her legs, the look in his eyes still one of desire. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the bare skin above her stocking. _"Oh,"_ she murmured, pushing a hand against her mouth to muffle the sound. How deliciously shocking.

But then his mouth found the juncture of her thighs, and Ariadne whimpered at the contact. She grasped her skirts, pulling them up and giving Arthur access to her sensitive flesh. Her other hand was pressed up against her mouth, trying to muffle her gasps and cries. The staff might know that they had arrived for their honeymoon, but to have them realize exactly where and when they were having these intimate embraces…

Her entire body tightened, back arching as a wave of pure pleasure flooded her senses. If not for Arthur's hands on her hips and his tongue lapping greedily at her flesh, she would have collapsed and fallen. Had she been aware of her own mewling cries, Ariadne would have flushed with shame and endeavored to hide. But as it was, she tilted her hips toward his mouth and shifted her legs wider, encouraging him without words to continue, to drive her toward the inevitable end that all the novels hinted at. Her breath came in short gasps, muffled cries, and when her control utterly shattered, Arthur caught her as she slid down the length of the door.

She felt like a wanton creature as he kissed her, her own musky taste on his tongue as he licked into her mouth, stroking her tongue with his. She caught his head in her hands and kept him in place above her, bared breasts rubbing against his shirt and skirts falling open about her waist. The desire burned within her, and she knew that Arthur would know how to give her what she craved without her even having to ask with words. Still, she wouldn't be Ariadne if she didn't at least speak the obvious, if she didn't gasp "More" into his mouth. He laughed, and shifted above her so that his fingers skimmed down the length of her body before finding her slippery center, fingers dancing between her legs where his mouth had been, sliding into her and stretching her deliciously. She canted her hips up, splayed her legs wide and arched into his touch. She encouraged him with her moans and kisses and touch, pulling at his shirt until she could feel his bare skin beneath her fingers. Arthur groaned at the contact, similar to her own.

Feeling brave, Ariadne wriggled beneath Arthur and grasped at his clothes, palming him even as he slid another finger inside of her. She felt wet and slippery where he touched her, such a deliciously wicked feeling, and her blood seemed to sing. Arthur shifted to kneel between her spread legs to undo his clothing with one hand, the rhythm he set with his other disrupted. Ariadne fumbled at his clothes as well, trying to aid him, finding herself giggling helplessly at the absurdity of their situation. This was hardly the effortless seduction of romance novels, but it certainly was breathless and wonderful and awe-inspiring just the same. Arthur laughed along with her a little, saying "Not exactly how I pictured this," before freeing his erection and swooping in to kiss her mouth with ardent fervor.

It was rather heartening to realize that they both had imagined this moment, and that Ariadne wasn't the only one daring to satisfy her curiosity. She found herself stroking his erection very gently, then squeezed when Arthur hit a particularly sensitive spot with his fingers. He groaned, though not in pain, and she firmed her grip over him. There was a heady sense of power in this, that she was reducing him to the same insensate sounds that he was inspiring in her. This art of seduction truly went both ways.

"Slow down," he groaned, pulling back slightly from her kiss. "Else I won't last long enough to be inside you."

"Perhaps I intend to leave you here unmanned," she teased, grinning at him. He sought his revenge by twisting his fingers just so, making her gasp and clutch at him tightly. "Not sporting in the slightest, Arthur," she moaned, leaning into his touch.

He laughed again, twisting his fingers to find that spot that left her seeing stars behind her eyelids. "On the contrary, I believe it's very sporting. It's delightful how responsive you are, that we suit so very well…"

And then she was beyond the capacity to understand speech, the syllables sliding together as she twisted in his arms, gasping and moaning until she cried out. Arthur didn't remove his clothing— _so scandalous!_ she would think later, a blush rising along her cheeks as she recalled the intimacy of their twined bodies— but sank deeply into her, filling her completely. There was the stretch and pull in her thighs, some discomfort and adjustment, but it also felt _right_ somehow, like two parts of a puzzle fitting together.

"Oh, yes, we suit," Ariadne murmured, experimentally sliding one stockinged leg along his. Oh, well that felt different. She grasped his arse, startling him, and she grinned up at him unrepentantly. "But this can't be all there is, is there?"

"Vixen," Arthur replied with an answering grin. "You'll be the death of me someday."

"Perhaps if you don't finish what you've started," she replied tartly.

"What _I've_ started?" he scoffed, beginning to shift above her. And oh, pleasure filled her, spreading like warm honey outward along her limbs. This was definitely worth the wait, then. "Your stares all day, drawing out my misery… You are quite the accomplished flirt, for all that you claim to have no experience in such things."

"Perhaps I am simply a quick study." Ariadne tried for a cheeky tone, but her voice fractured and she nearly screamed in delight as she bucked beneath him. "Oh, that. Do that again."

He did. And again and again and again…

Lying tangled together afterward, Ariadne was certain her dress and his trousers were ruined. Still, she could not be sorry for such a small matter. Especially when Arthur lifted his head from her breast to grin at her, eyes crinkling in amusement. "We're not likely to leave this estate for some time," he told her. "And there are quite a lot of rooms to explore here in such a manner. Are you ready for this kind of challenge?"

"I'm sure you will find me quite willing to go above and beyond expectations," she replied, her voice a purr. Ariadne tangled her fingers in his hair and brought him closer for a kiss.

The world of a newly married woman didn't seem to be the boring sort at all.

The End


End file.
